19 Years in the Making
by Lily Potter-Prior
Summary: "I've had enough trouble for a lifetime". This story picks up from the very end of Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows, between Harry and Ginny facing the new reality that Harry Potter has now created. Hinny One-Shot.


_"…_ _I've had enough trouble for a lifetime."_

Harry turned away from the portrait of Dumbledore, Ron and Hermione. His exhaustion had peaked and all he could think about was the peaceful oblivion of sleep. He slipped under his invisibility cloak, preparing to hide himself from the bustling crowds of families recovering from the battle. He slipped through corridor after corridor, not looking at or speaking to anyone.

The Fat Lady's door was, thankfully, ajar already and he silently made his way to his dormitory where he collapsed on his bed and happily let sleep overtake him.

When Harry Potter woke up, his first instinct was to change into his robes and head to class. After blinking for a few moments - the events of the previous day flooded over him like a tsunami of emotions: the most prominent being grief. Fred Weasley was dead. Remus Lupin and Tonks were dead, leaving a son behind. He stood up, noticing as he did so that Ron was deeply snoring in the bed beside his. He did not know how many hours, or maybe days he had slept, but he knew that he owed many explanations to many people.

As he trudged down to the Great Hall, he noticed that there were still a great amount of people. As he entered, all eyes turned to him and the casual chatter erupted into cheers and applause. Harry felt himself shrink just a little bit as he wriggled his way through those crowded around him - scoping the hall for any sign of a redheaded family.

And then there they were. All sitting together, talking calmly to one another. Molly Weasley was even smiling, although it was brief and a bit sad. Behind them lay the body of Fred Weasley, and a fresh wave of pain and guilt flooded through Harry.

He approached them cautiously and immediately Molly jumped to her feet.

"Harry! Oh thank goodness! Are you hurt?" He could not bear that she was asking how he was, when he was so responsible for the death of her son. She stroked his hair and seemed to scour every inch of his body for injury.

"Mrs. Weasley I- Fred- It's my" but she held a hand up, suddenly looking stern. "Harry, I know what you are going to say. Don't. Without you, it probably would have been all of us." She patted his cheek affectionately and hugged him fiercely again, a hug he still did not feel he truly deserved.

He looked down at George, pale and silent, not looking away from his brothers face. And then he met her eyes, the beautiful brown, almond eyes of the person he wanted to see more than anyone else: Ginny Weasley.

Her hair was knotted and messy, she had a cut lip and eyebrow as well as several tears in her clothes which were covered in mud, but she glowed nonetheless. She held his gaze solemnly, and when he pulled away from Mrs. Weasley he spoke to her.

"Do you have a minute?"

She silently nodded, and then followed him out of the hall and onto the damaged grounds. They walked silently all the way to the lake, and sat under one of the trees, swaying lightly in the breeze.

"Ginny, are you alright?" It was an empty sentence. Of course she was not alright after all that had happened, and Harry mentally hit himself for asking it. Tactfully, she overlooked his weak conversation starter.

"Are you going to tell me where you went?" Her voice was quiet, calm, but full of unmistakeable curiosity.

Harry sighed, looking deeply into her eyes. And then, after what felt like days, he murmured, "Where would you like me to start?"

Harry Potter and Ginny Weasley sat under that tree for hours as Harry relived detail after detail of his year away from Hogwarts and from her. And she sat there quietly, listening to every word he said, drinking in every bit of information.

When he reached his return to the school, he stopped. Everything had come pouring out of him with barely a pause for breath. He watched her tuck a stray hair behind her ear. He longed to pull her to him, hug her, hold her, lose himself in her, but he sat and waited.

She looked up at him, her face passionately blank. "I thought you were dead. We all did. We thought it was over and I wondered how I would fake being okay."

"I'm sorry. I had to, it was the only-"

"Way. I know." And for the first time, she smiled. "I know." She said again, and Harry felt himself lose control. He slid his hand through her hair and pulled her to him, kissing her deeply and feeling the rest of the world disappear around him.

And she was kissing him back. He knew she understood, and he knew that they would find a way as she threw her arms around his neck.


End file.
